If I Were Samantha Jones

He left me for a club promoting Suicide Girl that knows how to swallow fire. How could I compare? I am a psychology student that works at grocery store. My hobbies include drawing, yoga and knitting. So I’m left here in a dark of room huddled under blankets, clutching a bag of popcorn and watching “Sex and the City.” My roommate, Sheila busts in my room with a frown of disappointment.
“It’s been two weeks since the guy left you. It’s a Saturday night get your ass up we are going out, Stacey!” She sternly says as she switches on the lights and starts to tear through my closet.
“Don’t you wish you could be someone like Samantha, but less slutty?” I say still in dream like state of sadness.
“Samantha would never be mourning over a man. Can you be like Samantha for a night? She once said, “as soon as my relationships are over, I move on.” I want you to be like Samantha look good, talk smart and make jaws drop.
“I’m more like Charlotte. I’d give everything to have true love and a nuclear family.”
“Be Samantha!” I thought for a moment how my ex is snuggled up to a stunning model. I wanted to be her, better than her. Samantha would put on something jaw dropping and get a hotter man. Could I really be Samantha or am I forever Charlotte?
“If I’m going to be Samantha I need a padded push-up bra and stilettos,” my mind was changed. I need this.
“Oh thank God. Here, wear this!” Sheila throws me a tight short dress and spiked stilettos.
After putting on the outfit I look at myself. I look hot! I can be Samantha for one night. Charlotte can take a nap in the back of my mind and I can be a sexy bombshell. Sheila and I take shots in the car before we enter the bar. As I wait to order a beer at the bar, she goes to say hello to someone. A man approaches me with heart melting eyes and sleeve tattoo of roses and a crane.
“Sasha?” He says in a deep handsome voice starring me right into my eyes as my knees quiver from nerves. Then I remember, I am Samantha Jones ‘hello 9-1-1? I’m on fire.’
“Admit it, Sasha is an imaginary friend you made up in order to find an excuse to buy me a drink,” I make eye contact with the bartender.
“You can buy me a dirty gin martini” I smirk.
“I’ll have a Samuel Adams and she’ll have a dirty gin martini,” he says. “So what is your name, Miss?”
“What’s in a name? What I really want to know is what are your intentions with my body?” I can’t believe I said that. The night continues, I’m very clever and alluring. I am totally not myself. Last call happens and we have a date for tomorrow night, a movie and dinner. We exit the bar laughing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss” He says, caressing my face and our eyes close and our lips embrace. Then I feel a yank from the back of my head.
“Bitch, that’s my man!” I’m assuming this is Sasha and my bliss is shattered. I turn around with my eyes wide and confused.
“James, I’m the girl you got pregnant you man whore!”
“SO why are you pulling on my hair?!” I yell!
“Did you know that this guy sleeps with so many girls he had no idea who I was when I told him I was pregnant with his child?!”
“James, lose my number. Girl, I’d just get an abortion and a STD test, toodles.” I turn and clink away in my stilettos to my car with Sheila waiting patiently.
“SO how did it go being Samantha with the hot guy?”
“Like anything else goes, unsuccessful but a good learning experience.”
I’ll always be more Charlotte. I forgot that Samantha ends up alone with her stilettos and dog. Charlotte gets the bliss.